


Bury Me Face Down (the Mindless Remix)

by thechaoscryptid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark Magic, Hand-wavy magic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nephilim, Possession, Souls, referenced Shiro/Keith, shiro is dead, sort of necromancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechaoscryptid/pseuds/thechaoscryptid
Summary: With Shiro dead and buried, Keith turns to the only person willing to help him undo the wrongs of the world.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	Bury Me Face Down (the Mindless Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inktober 2019 - Mindless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874128) by [writinggiraffe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinggiraffe/pseuds/writinggiraffe). 



> The missing scene remix for Writinggiraffe's Mindless! They said SPN inspired Shiro, and my mind immediately went to angelic magic bringing Shiro back from the dead.

Grief has a way of making a person do funny things. Keith’s seen it wreak havoc on friends’ lives, on the lives of his family, but he hasn’t ever experienced it quite like this. The constant, gut-punched feeling makes it impossible to breathe, makes him want nothing more than to die, and he spends too many of his nights crying out for a man who won’t be walking through the door again.

Is that what grieving is? Waiting like a dog for its master?

Can’t be.

_ Won’t  _ be, he vowed after the first month, and now here he sits, making sure he’ll follow through on that promise.

“Funny things,” he mumbles, flicking through books he’s painstakingly tracked down across the world. “Funny…”

Calfskin pages tease at his fingers, old ink faded and worn. There’s a faint smell of mildew around him and he’s not sure if it’s the books or just his subconscious, but it turns his stomach. It’s not as though they’re well kept--they rarely see the light of day. They hold nothing but darkness and chaos, banned and abandoned practices nearly lost to time.

Time without Shiro is endless. Each second is an eternity and yet somehow when Lance steps into the old house only to tell him he’s about to lose it, two years have passed in the blink of an eye and the turn of a page. Keith only pays attention to the phone because he’s waiting for a text from Lotor (or any other informant) that has information able to help him bring Shiro back. Though he considers taking up Lance’s invitation to come to Shiro’s remembrance party, four words shoot that down.

_ [Lotor, 4:57 PM] _

_ Tonight, my place, 7 _

_ [Me, 4:57 PM] _

_ Found something? _

_ [Lotor, 5:01 PM] _

_ My mother won’t be pleased, but I’ve found an angelic binding spell _

_ Bring the books, I’ll take them off your hands _

_ [Me, 5:04 PM] _

_ Will it work on her kind? _

_ [Lotor, 5:09 PM] _

_ You’re attempting to coerce black magic from the Fallen and *that’s* what you’re wondering? You’re a bigger fool than I thought. _

Keith types out several snappy remarks before sighing and tossing the phone onto the couch, leaving Lotor on read. It will do him (and by extension, Shiro) no good to piss off the only truly promising lead he’s found in his quest to bring Shiro back. He also doesn’t want to let the books go but truth be told, he’ll have no use for them once he has Shiro in his arms again, and they’re better off in the hands of someone who knows how to properly utilize them.

He doesn’t doubt it’s Lotor the old legends speak of, the angelic bastard who sows discord and reaps the profits of war.

Really, he should just burn the books, but…

Keith presses his palms to his eyes. Gods, it’s a fucking stupid plan, trusting Lotor. He should just let enough be enough, settle into the understanding that Shiro won’t ever hold his hand again. He should listen to Allura when she tells him she worries, to Hunk and Lance and Pidge, to  _ everyone,  _ but any life without Shiro is not one worth living.

Yes, grief makes one do funny things.

Even dangerous things.

His phone pings a few more times with requests, then orders, from everyone to come over, but he ignores them all in favor of steeling his nerves for the task ahead. It’s  _ possible  _ to transport a soul back from beyond the veil, but it’s a process delicate beyond belief. Barring the delicacy, it’s only possible if you can find an angel willing to stoop to humanity’s level. Barring  _ that,  _ and the most difficult thing of all, it’s highly irregular to call back a soul that’s been gone for so long.

_ Impossible  _ is what people like to whisper when they think he can’t hear.

But Honerva’s known for miracles, so hopefully...maybe...

_ Shit. _

Burying his hands in his hair, he bends forward with a low groan. It’s risky, much riskier than Shiro would have approved of.  _ “Will,”  _ he whispers fervently, because Shiro  _ will  _ come back to hear the tale. They’ll have that fight and he’ll be grateful, because it means Shiro’s here to fight with and not buried six feet deep.

He has to come back.

The sky is a sickly green when he drags the bike out from the garage, which is fitting. Shiro went out in a storm, and he’ll return to one. “It’s like you never left,” he says, a desperate laugh accompanying the statement. “Right, Shiro? It hasn’t--you haven’t--we haven’t been apart so long.”

There’s no answer but the low whistling of the wind in his ears as the bike roars under him. Asphalt flies by until the road turns to dirt, the path back to Lotor’s old house colored with shadows that move with the breeze. Keith’s always surprised, somehow, how  _ dead  _ everything on the property is. Once upon a simpler time, he’d joked that Lotor may as well be Death itself.

Lotor may have forgiven, but he certainly hasn’t forgotten.

“You are a  _ bold  _ little shit, aren’t you?” he says in lieu of a greeting, fingers curled cruelly under his chin as he leans against the doorframe. He gives Keith an appraising glance, the smirk Keith’s always hated plastered firmly against his lips. “You have the books?”

“Don’t see why you need them,” Keith says, but holds up his bag. “Weren’t you the one to give us the information to begin with?”

“Oh, please,” Lotor scoffs. He taps two fingers against his temple. “You’ve been taken in by the rumors, as well? I thought we were better friends than that.” He clicks his tongue and examines his nails, unaffected by the way Keith’s hackles raise. “It  _ is  _ easier to assume we half-breeds are some monstrous race, is it not?”

Keith can’t stop the  _ aren’t you  _ that bursts out of him, and finds himself pinned in place by a golden gaze.

“Hand the books over, Keith.”

“Help me first.”

Flashing a quick hand sigh, Lotor steps forward. When Keith attempts to move away, there’s no amount of effort that will make his feet move. “You’re already getting on my nerves,” Lotor purrs, sidling over to pluck the backpack from Keith’s hand. “I have no reason other than the goodness of my heart to help you--perhaps it’s not wise to seek me out and then make me angry.” His lips brush the shell of Keith’s ear when he leans forward to whisper, “Don’t you want your precious Shiro back?”

“Yes,” Keith manages, voice thick as Lotor’s magic unravels from around his body. He  _ can  _ move, but doesn’t until Lotor beckons him toward the house.

“I’m not summoning an angel out here without my warding in place,” he says. “Come in.”

Keith stuffs his hands in his pockets and trots after him, eyeing the sigils and what looks disturbingly like old bloodstains on the doorframe. The wind blows harder, slams the door shut behind them, and he starts at the noise. Being surrounded by magic is nothing new--he’s studied it all his life and with Allura being a close companion, he’s gotten to know the feeling of holy magic specifically up close and personal. 

He’s no stranger to darkness either, but the force of all Lotor holds in him buzzes like electricity over his skin, and he shivers.

“Sit,” Lotor orders, pointing to the armchair in the corner. He tosses the backpack onto an old desk carelessly littered with tattered scrolls and books that have seen better days. When Keith perches uncomfortably on the edge, Lotor looks back. “You  _ are  _ aware there’s a much higher chance this will fail than succeed.”

“I told him I’d do whatever it takes for us to be together,” Keith says, staring down as his hands twist in his lap.

_ Even this. _

_ Even risking everything. _

Lotor tosses him an old scroll and points to a spell written out near the bottom. “Took me damn near a year to find this, but I got there eventually. They’ve been careful to wipe out every piece of information they can about being bound.”

Keith nods.

“Even summoning them is risky,” Lotor continues, “but you knew that.”

“Great risk, great reward and all,” Keith says. His throat is dry as he looks at the foreign characters, wondering exactly how Lotor expects him to do this when he can’t even read it.

“This is  _ old,  _ older than even I am. It predates the Fall, and I’m  _ really  _ hoping its translation’s remained close to what the original spell was.” Lotor ruffles his hair with a low sigh. “Perhaps they knew from the beginning heaven isn’t all it’s cracked up to be--it’s angelic in origin. It binds an angel to the summoner and in return, you give up the claim to your body.”

“What?” Keith hisses. “You didn’t mention  _ shit  _ about  _ possession,  _ you--”

“I didn’t say  _ you  _ were going to summon her,” Lotor says. He opens the middle drawer of the desk and pulls out a small knife, holding it hilt first toward Keith. “Even if I did trust you were strong enough to handle it, Honerva is not a being you just bind to you on a whim.” He crosses his arms when Keith takes the blade. “You’re welcome for my time, and my body.”

“And you’re not planning on fucking me over?” Keith asks warily.

Lotor groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, and much to Keith’s surprise, his eyes are earnest and open when he looks up next. “Contrary to what... _ people--” _

Keith can hear the unspoken  _ Allura  _ in the word.

“--may have told you, I don’t eat the hearts of lesser men for breakfast. We had an agreement, and I honor my promises.” He purses his lips. “You returned my books to my hold, and if you’re stupid enough to come to me for help in finding a soul, you’re just stupid enough it may work.”

“I’m no--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lotor interrupts. “Are you willing, or have you wasted our time tonight?”

“I’m ready,” Keith says, then tacks on, “and thank you.” He stands and draws nearer, every nerve within him screaming  _ danger.  _ “What are you getting from this?”

“A chance,” Lotor says, and makes it evident he won’t elaborate further. 

Keith holds up the knife and scroll. “Tell me what I need to do.”

For all the danger and uncertainty, it’s an easy ritual. Lotor takes his time laying down his sigils-- _ “You’ve waited two years, you can wait another twenty minutes so we don’t unleash Honerva on the world,”  _ he snarks when Keith worries-- before asking for the knife back. His blood sizzles where it drips on the wards, and he warns Keith to stand firm. “You’re about to witness something you truly shouldn’t,” he says. “It will terrify you, and you will want to run. Do not.”

“I said I’d do anything for Shiro, and I meant it,” Keith says. “What else?”

“We will coexist in this body,” Lotor says. “Do not speak to her. Speak  _ only  _ when  _ I _ speak to you, because she does not come in peace. Honerva will do whatever she can to escape into the wider world, and I don’t need you somehow letting that happen.”

Keith nods. “And afterwards?”

“You’re well aware of what it takes to get Shiro’s soul back to his body?”

“Yes.”

“You’re willing to carry it in you until you can manage to unearth him?”

Keith nods again.

“Then you will take it and leave me here,” Lotor says quietly. “My mother and I have quite a lot to discuss with each other.”

“All right,” Keith agrees, and Lotor wastes no time in beginning. More blood drips to the floor as an unnatural wind whips through the room, scattering his research to all four corners. It continues to rise to a shriek and Keith’s sure that even with all the protections laid out, the house is going to come down around them. The sheer amount of  _ power  _ present shakes him down to his very bones, and Lotor’s right--he wants nothing more than to run. 

As a bright light coalesces near the ceiling, Keith is seized with a distinctly unnatural need to grovel, supplicate himself, and he’s halfway to his knees before he realizes this is  _ not  _ what he has to do. He quakes on unsteady feet with his arms around his head, because it’s the only way he feels  _ remotely  _ safe. 

He can endure this.

He has to.

For Shiro.

For love.

For life.

He bites his tongue against a whimper when Lotor begins to speak, a beautiful, guttural language that Keith hasn’t ever heard. He hears Honerva’s name loud and clear, however, and she thrashes against the confines of Lotor’s wards as Lotor’s voice continues to rise. When at last the last word rings from the rafters, Honerva gives a wild shriek before enveloping Lotor in her presence.

Keith holds his breath as the two struggle, releasing it in a rush when, at long last, just Lotor stands in front of him. 

He nearly cries out when Lotor opens his eyes. 

_ His  _ eyes may be too strong a statement. Gold has faded to stark white, and that same light emanates from Lotor’s lips when his mouth opens. It’s  _ certainly  _ not his voice that comes pouring out. 

“Human,” Honerva names him, sounding like every dream and nightmare Keith’s ever had all wrapped up in one. Then, rolling the sound around on Lotor’s tongue, “Keith.”

Keith shivers violently, but stands resolute.

“You would  _ pin  _ me to this place?” She takes one step forward before snapping Lotor’s neck to the side, and Keith winces at the pain that flashes across Lotor’s face. “What have you convinced him of? My foolish son, fallen prey to--oh,” she says, face going blank before she breaks out in a gravelly laugh. “Ah,” she sighs. “You’re in  _ love.”  _

“Was.” Lotor’s voice breaks through, allowing Keith to relax by just a bit. “Are you finished with your tantrum?”  
“Tantrum,” Honerva scoffs. “Being bound to an insolent child who’s abandoned his herita--”

“Takashi Shirogane,” Lotor interrupts. “Your problem is with me, not with the human. The sooner you bring him back, the sooner we can get on with this. Keith?”  
“Yes?” Keith whispers.

“Come closer.” When he does, Lotor instructs him to put a hand across the wards. “The soul, mother.”

It’s obvious when Honerva takes back over, Lotor’s spine stiffening and his face curling in a snarl. “You'll regret it,” she says, as though trying to warn him off. “They always do.”

Keith shuts his eyes and spreads his fingers wider. He’s absolutely certain that he’d rather have Shiro in  _ any  _ capacity--being without him is having his dreams crushed day after day, and even knowing that he  _ was  _ dead at one point is better than him continuing to be dead.

They can have a life again.

His intentions must be clear enough, even across species. “Fools, the both of you,” Honerva grates, but there’s a mist swirling in her hands when Keith’s eyes slam open. 

_ Shiro. _

Keith can feel it with his entire being, doesn’t even mind when tears leak unbidden down his cheeks because it’s  _ Shiro,  _ and Shiro is  _ here.  _ Shiro is warm as he slips into his palm, quests below his skin, and Keith  _ sobs  _ because Shiro is home. His presence soothes every one of the ragged edges he left behind after the accident, and Keith very nearly forgets he's meant to be  _ doing  _ something now that Shiro's with him.

“Go,” Lotor yells, startling him from his trance. “Do what you will, and at this point--pray. Pray and hope it works for you in the end.”


End file.
